


To burn the world

by Jackoandplants



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Childhood Friends, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 23:36:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17375327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackoandplants/pseuds/Jackoandplants
Summary: It was weird to feel how their bodies started to sync without touching each other; they had the same pulse, the same heart. Excitement prickled in Matt´s finger tips, his stomach, the parts of his face where the other boy´s breath brushed against his skin.( aka young Matt & Mello, punches, files, love & swearing )





	To burn the world

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic about Matt & Mello. Please keep in mind that I´m not a native english speaker! But I still tried my best & hope you´ll like it. :)

It happened on the 125th night after Mello´s arrival at the orphanage. The number presumably had no significance whatsoever, but Matt somehow still remembered it. Probably because it was one of the few nights he had fallen asleep out of exhaustion and not out of unease.  
His new roommate had meant nothing but trouble to Matt; the isolation that came with living alone in a room that was designed to inhabit two people provided a kind of safety to him that was now destroyed. The blonde came unexpected and wild, a thunderstorm. No introduction, no handshaking. His whole appearance was defined by hurried motions, fleeting gestures and annoyed shrugs.  
“If you touch anything that belongs to me”, he demanded in a bored yet pressing voice, “I´ll fucking kill you.”  
Matt sat on his bed, looking at him startled. “Nice to meet you, too.” Mello just rolled his eyes at that and kept unpacking his huge backpack while Matt tried to concentrate on his Gameboy again.  
How could Roger let that happen? After spending the last 5 out of his 14 years of life at Wammys, everyone knew that the redhead wasn´t comfortable being that close to someone else all the time, even worse sleeping in the same room. As an introvert he had no problem interacting with others in class, at least when it was required, but sharing a room with another boy was something else entirely. Matt felt betrayed. He kept wondering what he had done wrong to deserve such a punishment and stayed awake for hours lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling; uneasy night number one.  
As it turned out it wasn´t that hard to live with Mello after all, because the only rule was this: They simply stayed out of each other´s life. They didn´t talk unless it was necessary, didn´t even look at each other if it could be avoided. It was a blessing and a curse, at least for Matt. While he was glad he could keep on living his unsocial and uneventful life, playing video games all day and night or smoke at the window in solitude, there was a strange feeling creeping up in him. He struggled determining it. In the 48th uneasy night he decided it was a mixture of shame, curiosity and bewilderment. The coldness and disinterest Mello showed towards him was offending. Hurting. Matt just couldn´t believe how the blonde was at times so loud, so angry and just full of rage, full of everything, pure emotions and passion and glaring eyes that seemed to spit blue fire, while when he was in their room he resembled a stormy sea that had just calmed. He showed his annoyance with things, sure, but it was as if the flames that surrounded him in class, on school trips or wherever, quickly died out as soon as he entered their room, leaving him burned out and bored. Most of the time he would just lay on his bed or sit at his desk, reading or learning while devouring one chocolate bar after another. He was a person that was equal parts an open book and a mystery.  
And Matt was in awe of him. Mello was terrifying, as most beautiful things were.  
The confusion that evolved from nights spent thinking about how, why, when he had become so fascinated by a person that didn´t even acknowledge his presence, felt nearly as bad as the fact that Matt could do nothing to change the situation. He just couldn´t. Every conversation he planned out in his head was built on the illusion that Mello wanted to participate in it, which was – considering the circumstances - unbelievable. And so Matt also felt another thing: loneliness. In all the years he had lived alone in this room that was so familiar to him, his home, it had never occurred, never actually occurred to him that he was alone. But now that Mello was there, a creature of undeniable will and indefinable beauty, unreachable and distant, he felt more lonely than ever. This wasn´t home anymore.  
Like every shitty thing that happened in Matt´s young life he just endured it, since he didn´t see another way to cope with it or didn´t care to look for another.  
That was until the 125th night after Mello´s arrival at the orphanage. Due to a soccer event every class had to attend to the redhead was forced to play in a team with other kids his age and the physical effort had exhausted him quite a bit; he should probably quit smoking. After taking a shower and tucking himself into bed he merely noticed that Mello kept nervously brushing through his hair with restless fingers before sinking into a sudden, dreamless sleep.

It was July and the night was warm and stifling. The last rebelling stripes of sunlight beamed distant at the horizon, dying out slowly. Just as more and more stars appeared on the dark canvas above the world, a red-haired orphan of 14 years awoke in sweat and sheets. He didn´t know what had woken him – a sound? A smell? A nightmare?  
Matts eyes found their way through the almost-darkness and landed on the other side of the room, more precisely on Mello´s bed. He didn’t right away notice his absence. What caught his attention first was the partly melted chocolate bar on the other boy´s nightstand and the messy sheets. He sat up while his eyes started to make out more and more outlines of the room. Everything was too quiet. The bathroom light was off. Something was wrong.  
The sudden feeling of alarm that rushed through his body might have concerned him in another situation (why would he care so much that Mello was gone? He probably just went to the kitchen to snatch some more chocolate) but in that very moment he could sense that his roommate hadn´t left because of a triviality.  
It was against Matt´s nature to take action in real life, to commit to something, to care for – well, anything. But an invisible force had taken control over his body and made him leave the warm room, barefooted and suddenly awake. He silently walked through the corridors and down the stairs, here left, here right, now left again; the invisible force wanted him to go outside, so he went outside. The still reigning summer heat welcomed him and was unbelievable heavy on his skin, making him feel dizzy and dried out.  
Suddenly a voice slit through the air. Matt turned his head to determine its origin and walked further into the now fully developed darkness. There was the voice again, no, two voices actually, competing in suppressed whisper. The volume of their argument rose and fell, all hissed insults and daring threats. Matt started to walk slower and more hesitant when he realized that one of the persons he could make out under the moonlight was none other than Mello. Even in the darkness and full of rage, his face resembled an ancient marble statue; smooth, delicate, holy, but also somehow cold and other-worldly. Matt stopped. They were in the middle of the wide field just behind the orphanage where the soccer games had taken place hours ago. He could feel the flat grass between his toes and crickets chirping everywhere. Another movement seemed impossible; the redhead stood frozen still, watching two boys fighting just a few yards in front of him. They were so caught up in trying not to yell too loud at each other that they didn´t even notice their observer.  
“You´re such a fucking maniac!”, Mello´s opponent whisper-shouted at him and clenched his fists. He seemed familiar to Matt, yet he wasn´t able to name him. Tall, dark hair, rather rough features. The dark made him look like a large pitbull.  
“Just because you walk around like you´re the boss you think no one sees how fucked up you really are! But guess what, I see through your act you son of a bitch.”  
Mello just glared at the other one who moved closer and closer to him and stopped right in front of the blonde, faces inches apart, making the height difference between them stand out. Matt was stunned at the sight of someone towering over his usually intimidating roommate. This is wrong, he thought, thisiswrongthisiswrong.  
“You´re insane. You´re mad. And I´ll show everyone.”  
Because the pitbull´s voice became more inaudible in the ocean of cricket noises that surrounded them Matt couldn´t help but automatically move closer. The boys both noticed his movement out of the corner of their eyes and immediately turned towards him, looking more annoyed than surprised. Matt simply continued staring at them, careful not to look frightened, thinking about reasons that could excuse him sneaking out in the middle of the night to watch his roommate argue with another kid of the orphanage. There were no excuses.  
Mello was the first one to turn back to the dark haired boy. His gaze was truly frightening, two bright blue eyes piercing through the darkness. Yet again, Matt seemed to be nothing but air to him. He took a deep breath, blinked, looked at the pitbull.  
“Give. Me. The. Files.”  
His clear and almost velvety voice reminded Matt of a lion´s growl, just as controlled and calm and dangerous. It was the kind of growl you feared more than a loud roar, for it announced an attack on you that was planned and calmly decided on but nevertheless could tear you into pieces. It was a voice that said: You do not mess with me.  
“Oh, what are ya gonna do if I don´t? Call the rest of your freak family?”, the other boy hissed and grabbed Mello by the collar, violently pulling his shirt and nearly knocking his slender figure to the ground. The blonde clenched his teeth, wanted to break himself free, but –  
Something in Matt snatched. A thin thread, spun over hours and hours, days, nights, 125 nights, - made out of nerves, tension and suppressed foreboding - was torn apart in the very second his roommate was physically threatened by another 15-year old who strangely resembled a furious dog baring his teeth in the moonlight. Said dog didn´t even have enough time to fully turn his head to Matt before he felt a hard fist making contact with his face in the most unpleasant way possible. The sound of knuckle against nose bone echoed through the thick air, nasty and painful.  
5 seconds later Matt became himself again, looked down at the boy he had just punched to the ground where he now lay, holding his bleeding nose and swearing. In Matts head swirled the realization of what had just happened and with it a lot of perplexity. Did he do this? Did his thin fingers do this?  
“Fuck.”, a voice whispered right next to him. Without looking away from the boy moving around in the grass before him Matt felt Mello standing by his side, looking in the same direction. “What- fuck.”  
-  
4 minutes and 12 seconds later Matt gently pressed the door to their room shut, careful not to make a sound and wake someone up. Enough unnecessary and uncomforting things had happened tonight; they didn´t need other kids or even Roger to wake up and ask questions.  
When Matt had thought before that the previous nights falling asleep with someone in his room who didn´t give a single fuck about him had been uneasy, he had been wrong. This was uneasy. This moment, after he had sneaked out to find Mello arguing with another boy in the field behind Wammys, after getting caught watching them, after hearing the boy´s statement about Mello being a freak, after hearing about files said boy wanted to use to expose Mello as a freak, after punching said boy to the ground, after quietly hurrying back to his room with Mello but without words and now standing in the middle of their little shared home and an awkward silence: that was uneasy. It was, one could say, the definition of uneasiness.  
Mello straight up walked into the little bathroom on the left side of the room and closed the door, not having said one word to Matt. The redhead slowly strolled to his bed and laid on it. The soft sheets tried to comfort him, but failed. His head was pondering and his right hand still slightly quivered. He had punched a boy he didn´t know in the face because he had threatened Mello. Mello, Mello, Mello, the little blue devil he never had a proper conversation with. The insufferable brat that didn´t care about others, that took what it wanted without even asking for the prize, that assumed it was the best because it was the best. Mello, the fighter, the challenger of mankind, the fire spitting dragon. Mello, the weary grown king. Mello, the beaten conqueror. The exhausted student, the tired, lonesome orphan boy. Mello, the sleeping, pale body Matt had laid his eyes on so many times. How often had he watched this lovely creature dream just a few feet away from him. The shame that crept up in Matt every time he thought about how his roommate made his stomach twist nearly burned him, his head reminding his heart that Mello never knocked on the door before he entered their room, that he only sometimes looked at him with distant eyes and a cold expression.  
It really was a tragedy, to worship someone who saw through you.  
This fucker is going to turn me crazy, Matt thought the second Mello opened the bathroom door and threw himself on his own bed. He turned his back to Matt´s side of the room and faced the wall, pulling the blanket half over his body. It was still dark and warm and suffocating and Matt tried to find a comfortable position. In the end he also settled to facing the wall. But he couldn´t find sleep, or sleep couldn´t find him due to all the thoughts still rushing through his head in an endless loop.  
After minutes that felt like hours he was just another thought away from sinking into dreamland when he suddenly felt the mattress sink under a pressure that felt as big and as warm as a human body. Matt tensed. He felt the weight beside him, soothing but also unsettling, and the sensation of breath against his neck. It´s him, he thought. It´s him, it´s him.  
It was July and the night was warm and stifling. The sky was as clearly black as the moon was bright and two orphan boys, - one 14, red-haired, nervous and frightened, one 15, blonde, nervous and thankful, lay together in the dark. And their conversation went like this:  
“Why did you follow me outside?”  
“I didn´t.”  
“You didn´t?”  
“No.”  
A pause. A sigh.  
“Why´d you help me?”  
“Dunno.”  
“Do you even know Lucas?”  
“Nope.”  
“Hm.”  
Another pause. Hesitating, thinking, making sure. Daring.  
“You... won´t ask about the files?”  
Matt thought about this for a second. Then he turned around so that he was face to face with Mello and opened his eyes. Mello´s presence overwhelmed him. It was weird to feel how their bodies started to sync without touching each other; they had the same pulse, the same heart. Excitement prickled in Matt´s finger tips, his stomach, the parts of his face where the other boy´s breath brushed against his skin.  
“What files?”, he whispered gently. He could feel Mello laugh quietly and his chest hummed of happiness, a hundred bees flying around in his ribcage. He couldn´t remember when he had been this happy the last time – then again, maybe there was nothing he could compare to this. The fear of being made fun of faded with every minute Mello kept lying close to him. Matt wondered if his hair was as silky as it looked like, but he also wondered about something else.  
“I kinda thought- “, he stopped, rephrased what he was about to say in his head, then came back to saying it as he had planned to before, “I don´t know why I did this. I kinda always thought you don´t like me.”  
Mello laughed again, which irritated the redhead even more.  
“Why? Because you´re the only one I don´t yell at? Because you´re the only one in this goddamn fucking institution I don´t wanna rip to pieces?”  
Matt felt a sudden sensation of possibility rush through his body. He started to see things different, like fragments that reformed and stretched and repositioned each other so that they formed a mosaic. The mosaic was very pretty, and it showed Mello actually liking him. At the same time he felt sad. He felt how now not only their bodies but their minds became one, and he felt all the anger and pain Mello felt. He too was an orphan, a highly intelligent, lonely kid forced to show off his talent in order to be a successor to L, the great idol. All the pressure of becoming the new L, of otherwise being worthless, now also pressed against Matt´s shoulders, making it hard to breathe. Matt had never cared about being the 3rd in row. He was not someone who actively thought about his future or the future of others, but Mello clearly was. He was a maker, a thinker, a solver. Matt had never acknowledged that these gifts were also curses.  
Mello shifted so that he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling. Matt could see through the darkness how his chest rose and fell in the same rhythm as his own breathing.  
“You make me silent, Matt.”, he said matter of factly and turned his head to look at the other. “You make me not want to burn the world.”  
Matt didn´t know what to respond to this because his heart was racing too fast and he was also very tired, so he just kissed Mello, like he had always wanted to and like he didn´t care what would come after. Mello kissed back, because he wanted to become even more silent, more him true self. His flames had burned out and become water, warm and flowing like the blood in his veins.

This happened on the 125th night after Mello´s arrival at the orphanage, and there were many more nights that followed. Nights of companionable quietness, nights of conversations and nights of bodies, skin against skin, arms and legs tangled and spines exposed and foreheads sweaty.  
They became friends. Brothers. Partners. Lovers. Men.  
There was no definition for what they were or what they had with each other. There was never the need for a definition and there would never be one; it was as simple as that. They had one heart. Mello and Matt, the inseparable ones who, over time, got separated the most. In the end they just tried to play their role in this world that was already burning. And they played it good.


End file.
